It was Never Sunny in Philadelphia
by BadNew
Summary: Dennis finally drives Charlie to the brink, but an old friend is there to bring him back. OC/Charlie. M for violence, drug use, language, and sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

**7:23 AM**

**On a Friday**

**Philadelphia, PA**

Dennis: Take this, here -

Charlie: Okay, hold on, you know it's hard for me to do things with only one hand...

Dennis: If you're going to bitch about this, you can figure it out on your own and end up jabbing yourself full of holes and get AIDS and die.

Charlie: Jesus! Calm _down_, would ya? That escalated, don't you think?

Dennis: Do you even know what that word means, Charlie?

Charlie: Well...yeah. Maybe.

Dennis: Fucking A. Just...here, hold this-

Charlie: Okay.

Dennis: Put the lighter here-

Charlie: And you're 100% sure I can't get addicted to this crap, right? It's just like the glue and cat pee and acid and shit?

Dennis: You're addicted to sniffing glue, Charlie.

Charlie: No I'm not! I _enjoy_ glue, sometimes, when I, uh...you know, when I, uh...

Dennis: Okay, you know what? I don't have time for this.

Charlie: Wait, man, hold on! Okay, okay. Here, here. I'm ready, I got it.

Dennis: You're gonna be amped, man. Really amped.

**IT WAS NEVER SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA**

"**C**harlie?" The word rang out in the stale air, hung awkwardly for a moment, and was met with a sleepy grunt from across the cramped room after a moment of silence. Where Charlie was wasn't immediately apparent - the mattress was stripped bare and badly stained, the walls were lined with tables crammed with trinkets and what looked like a collection of broken vases. The floor was stacked and strewn with magazines and filthy tin cans. The television was smashed and tipped over. Glass was everywhere.

"Hey man," Charlie groaned, slowly pushing himself up on one elbow. He was lying spread-eagled on the floor, face down, just on the other side of the bed out of sight. He looked stoned - what on any other day might have been model glue or spray paint he knew to be more sinister this morning - Dennis had had a haughty air about him when he told Adam he'd gotten Charlie so fucked up on cheap heroin that he'd passed out in a gutter outside his apartment and had to be dragged inside by his jacket.

Adam somehow managed not to grimace at the sight of his battered, defeated friend; he kept his composure and cleared his throat.

"Hi," he said, nudging aside a pizza box from the closest chair and carefully taking a seat. Charlie redirected his fumbling hand at the last minute and it landed on Adam's thigh. His fingernails were filthy and still sticky from whatever adhesive he'd been sucking into his body most recently. Their fingers met, briefly and by accident, and Adam steeled himself even as his guts twisted up. Charlie's face was still bleeding, and the cracked rubber tubing was tied firmly around his skinny, freckled arm.

"We're leaving. I'm getting you out of here," he said, easing a hand under one of Charlie's armpits, the other beneath the crooks of his knees. Charlie was small, and Adam was anything but. He carried him gently out the door without bothering to close it behind him, past a startled-looking Deeandra and a still-bloodied Dennis in the hall, to his El Camino on the curb out front; Frank and Mac were running towards them from a block away, looking a bit like Timon and Pumba - Frank's arms were flapping in the wind, and Mac looked a track racer expecting a hurdle to spring up out of the ground at any moment.

"Stop!" Mac was shouting, hoping to at lease rouse his doped-up friend before he was stashed in the passengers' seat. After a moment, it was too late. Adam slammed the car door, causing Charlie to jolt a little, his crusty eyes blinking in the early morning sun. The sky was overcast - rain was on the way.

"Mac," Charlie mumbled, as Adam slid into the driver's seat. He almost ignored it, almost pulled away from he curb and out of the filthy hellhole of a neighborhood… But then Mac's hands thumped on the open window and his frantic, handsome face came into full view. A sheen of sweat covered it, stinging his eyes, but he seemed not to notice.

"_Charlie Charlie Charlie_," he said quickly, then took a deep breath to ground himself. He was suspended in time for a moment, down to his fingertips and the way his hair seemed to hang weightless - he didn't twitch a muscle as he inhaled.

"Charlie Charlie Charlie," he said again, breaking the eerie stillness, "please don't go please don't go."

Adam could practically taste his fear, the panic that rolled off of him in waves at the thought of losing his lifelong best friend to this strange man, this man who could possibly do him harm, make him disappear forever…

"Go away, Mac. Let go of the car," he warned. "Charlie," Mac said, ignoring Adam completely. He really couldn't remember the last time anyone had that blatantly disrespected him - challenging a man with his reach was usually a death sentence. He chalked it up to shock and let it fly. Losing his temper would only upset the balance of calm and chaos.

Charlie raised one hand to shield his eyes and swat Mac away in one shot. Mac nearly stumbled back in shock - he withdrew his hands and held them against his own body, flat against his chest, like he'd been pushed. Adam noticed that they were shaking.

"Go away," Charlie croaked, fingers of his right hand curling feebly around the tubing around his opposite arm. Adam hadn't gotten a chance to untie it yet. He pulled it free with a snap and threw it out the window, where it landed at Mac's feet. He stared down at it - understanding, maybe, that perhaps it really was time Charlie got away. He looked up at Dennis, setting his jaw, a slow anger bubbling up inside him.

"Charlie!" Dennis called, his voice high-pitched with panic and tinny through a newly broken nose. It was their last hope to stop them. Dee could feel it, too, but kept silent. The only way to save Charlie was to let him leave.

"Dennis," she said quietly, putting one hand on his arm, and he jerked it away. He didn't plan on letting him go that easily. Dee started and backed up a step. Mac took her hand, numbly, and pulled her away from the car.

Dennis hesitated, flew forward a couple of steps, and brought his right fist firmly down, smashing off Adam's mirror. It surprised everyone - even Frank shouted, "Hey!" as the driver door flew back open and Adam was back on the curb; he took Dennis' collar in his left hand, his right raised high and ready to smash the rest of his nose into his face. The gang simultaneously cried out in horror and moved forward to help - Frank pulled his gun, and Dee recoiled, screaming skyward.

"Everybody calm down," Adam warned, voice raised. Dennis flinched, but didn't blubber, didn't beg. He expected to be hit. Hell, at this point, he knew he deserved it. Adam could hear sirens, somewhere far off. They had to leave now, or risk being arrested. He already had a warrant out for his arrest for some bullshit. Getting the police involved would be suicide.

"You can't just take him away. He's out of his mind, he isn't even THINKING, he's so high on that fucking GLUE-"

Adam punched him squarely in the jaw to shut him up, and Frank fired the gun. It went off in the air, drawing another scream from Sweet Dee. Adam pushed Dennis roughly to the ground, took a step forward, and brought his foot down on his chest. Mac wrested the gun from Frank and held it over his head. It was almost comical - the weapon was just out of reach, and eventually Frank gave up. Nobody laughed. Nobody even paid attention. Nobody breathed.

"You can't just drive off with him, it's kidnapping," Dennis gasped, spots dancing before his eyes.

"Listen to me, you slimy piece of lizard shit," Adam began, pressing harder with the steel toe on his boot, "You will never come looking for Charlie Kelly. You will watch us drive away, and you will never speak his name again. If you try and come after him, I'll know. You'll think you're safe, but I'll wait until you're all asleep and I'll cut all of your fucking throats. You MADE him this way. Every time he had a chance to see a little bit of calm or peace, you FUCKED his LIFE. Every time he had a shot with that fucking waitress, you _RUINED_ him. You brought him lower than he EVER should have gone a long time ago. You are all evil fucking people."

"I'm _not_ evil!" Mac shouted, looking oddly like a defiant child. His eyebrows were bunched and his lips pursed angrily. Adam was a little surprised, but didn't let it show.

"If he had died, his blood would be all over your hands," he said quietly, dark eyes flashing with anger, "and god knows he should have by now. It's a miracle that I even get to drive off with a person and not a body. Fuck you all. I sincerely hope you all kill each other."

Dennis coughed and sputtered and tried to push Adam's foot aside again. He held firm for a moment, gave him a sharp kick in the ribs, and moved toward the car again.

"Mac," Charlie repeated. His friend tossed the gun he'd been holding aside, like a piece of trash, and dashed to the passenger window. He almost pulled the door open, but decided against it at the last moment. Charlie reached through the window with his left hand, fingertips quivering as they hovered mere inches from Mac's face.

"I'll miss you, man," he whispered, closing his eyes, "sorry it had to be like this. I'm real sorry, man."

Mac blinked quickly and shook his head.

"Call me any time, bro," he said quickly, reaching up to take Charlie's hand in his own, awkwardly, not quite knowing how he felt about it or even why he did it. "Please, just, don't...don't forget me. I love you, man. I-I'll miss you. Don't leave me here." The last part, he had to admit, had only just slipped out. But Adam was too cautious, and far too intelligent to risk bringing Mac along. He'd have to fend for himself and try to get away on his own, at least for now.

Charlie cracked one eye and met Mac's gaze. His hands felt warm and wet. They were shaking hard.

"I'll come back, man," Charlie whispered, but to be honest, Mac didn't quite catch what he said. The realization that Charlie's final words to him would be a mystery was too much. The last expression he saw on Mac's face was one of agony, bewilderment, fear. Then he was gone, and so was everyone else.

They peeled out of the alley before the arriving squad car had a chance to realize they were the fleeing vehicle. When the officer found the bleeding pedestrian and the gun-wielding lunatic outside of Paddy's Irish Pub, Adam and Charlie were already six blocks away. Neither Reynolds sibling would give a description of the vehicle. Mac "didn't get a good look". Frank had what he kept calling "fugue".

"Amnesia, you fucking idiot," Dennis grumbled half an hour later, opening a beer and holding the cold glass to his shattered nose, "it's not fugue, it's amnesia. Fugue is where you forget everything and then run away and never come back."

"I thought Fugue was a song by that Back guy." Mac piped up, finally looking up from the cigarette burn on the bar he'd been monitoring intently.

"Back?" Dee asked, refilling an empty beer pitcher and passing it to Frank, who took it happily and began to pour, "Who the hell is Back? Beck? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"No, Dee. I know who Beck is. He wears a construction cone on his head and he's a scientologist, and probably a reptile person." Mac snapped, taking his glass when Frank offered it a moment later.

"I think he's trying to get across that he knows who Bach is, even though he's too stupid to pronounce it," Dennis muttered, closing his eyes and setting his aching jaw against the pain in his nose. He just wanted to get high and go to sleep, but he knew that the idea of losing Charlie forever wouldn't permit it.

The word that kept crossing his mind was_ unforgivable_. He had no idea why.

There was a lapse in the conversation as Dee wiped the counter down and Frank shut down the till. He didn't grumble about how slow the bar had been. Mac and Dennis played a silent game of pool. Mac lost, but didn't take it too hard. This was unusual, but no one pointed it out. Dennis didn't want to deal with a broken pool cue or Mac's bitching tonight, anyway.

"I miss him," Dennis said, out of the blue, almost ten minutes later. It was the first thing anyone had said since the gang had fallen silent.

Frank took off his glasses, put one hand over his eyes, and began to sob.

* * *

_I've decided to cut what I originally wrote into segments to mirror a standard "Episode" of Sunny, and while it doesn't follow the standard format (dialogue driven with very little subtext), I want to mirror the feel of the "darker " episodes of the later seasons (7 in particular). I don't pretend to know the continuity by heart, but this story picks up a few weeks after the hellish High School Reunion episodes. No spoilers here - stay tuned for the next chapter. This is all a fabrication, I don't own anyone but Adam, and any resemblance to living or dead persons is unintentional. Leave a comment, I have time on my hands. Suggestions? Questions? Help me improve._


	2. Chapter 2: The Sea

**6:39 AM**

**On a Sunday**

**Sarasota, FL**

Charlie awoke in a strange bed, covers bunched around him just like he liked, with the smell of weed heavy in the air.

He waited and listened. It didn't stink like he was used to and there were no cats - this wasn't his apartment. He tried to remember what happened and was immediately overcome with nausea. He dry-heaved a little, brought up a hand to his mouth to catch potential chunks, and took a slow breath in through his nose. The sheets and blankets smelled clean and fresh. They were soft and cool. The urge to vomit was passing. His forehead was clammy, and he realized it was a cold compress that someone had left there. He pushed it away and it fell to the ground.

He froze. There was movement from the other side of the room, but it was too dark to see anything. The bedside clock a foot from his face said it was 4:01 A.M.

"Hello?" Charlie croaked. He rustled and pushed the sheets away, sitting up.

"Hey," came a deep voice from the darkness, a voice that could only belong to one person.

"Adam?"

There was a flash of white teeth that looked almost orange from the glowing end of a cigarette, and Adam exhaled softly.

"Yeah," he said, sitting up on the bed. He was shirtless, his pale skin standing out in tiny pieces in the sliver of moonlight coming from the window. The tattooed parts of him (though it was hardly fair - he was mostly tattoos) were just as dark as the room around him, so he was nearly camouflaged. All Charlie could see were his eyes, his lips, his teeth, and his striking jawline. Everything else just…

"Disappeared," Charlie said quietly, blinking his eyes a few times. He usually woke up with some serious eye-boogers, but he felt surprisingly clear now.

"What?" Adam replied, reaching for the pack of smokes and offering it to his unwitting companion. Charlie took one with steady fingers.

"Nothing. So, uh…where are we, dude?"

Adam leaned forward and lit the cigarette for him with the snap of his fingers and his trusty zippo, smiling minutely.

"We drove for twelve hours. You slept the whole time."

Charlie found this answer acceptable for the moment and settled back on the pillows, taking a drag off of his cigarette.

"I don't feel too bad," he said earnestly, and Adam nodded his head, dark hair falling in his eyes.

"Do you want to know what happened?"

Charlie already knew what happened. He wasn't stupid. He'd overdosed before. Usually, though, it was just glue. Paint when he was depressed. Adam had already carefully bandaged up the arm that he'd shot the junk into after carefully wiping the blood and rust away. It didn't look infected. Charlie was lucky.

"Not really, man. I don't really feel like talking about it, you know?"

"Totally," Adam said, his smile wry, "…I know exactly what you mean."

Charlie blew smoke rings for a moment in silence. His arm ached and his head felt cobwebby, but otherwise…

"We got out, huh?" he said, like he didn't quite believe it.

"Yes," the tall man replied, sliding to the floor where he was more comfortable. He stretched out his long, long legs under the bed and set the ashtray in his lap.

After a moment of further contemplation, Charlie joined him, sitting opposite, just to his right. His feet barely reached the edge of the other bed. Adam set the ashtray between them instead.

Five minutes passed. Neither of them spoke. To Charlie, the silence was unnerving. He hadn't heard it in a while - even at night, for as long as he could remember, his world had just been so damned NOISY. If it wasn't the stray cats outside his apartment, it was Frank. If it wasn't Frank, it was Mac. If it wasn't Mac, it was fucking Dennis and Dee. He'd been listening to a constant barrage of screaming since he was twelve years old.

Charlie glanced up under dark eyelashes, and for a moment, Adam recognized a glimmer of fear.

"You're sure they didn't follow you?"

It occurred innocently to him that Charlie had no idea that Adam had nearly beaten his friend into a pulp for letting him get his hands on heroin (hell, Dennis had practically fed it to him when he heard Charlie was thinking about leaving the city). Adam wasn't an angry guy - but the image in his head of Dennis helping Charlie boil away his first bump sent him into a frenzy.

"I'm sure," he promised, ashing gently into the glass tray, "I watched the entire time. We were pretty much alone for five states."

The fear in Charlie's eyes doubled. Adam felt a pang, somewhere deep in his chest, remembering just how crippling his phobias could be - the first time he'd tried to drive him to West Virginia for a rave, Charlie had nearly collapsed to the floor of the ElCam in a shuddering heap. Adam had to promise him he was turning around and coming back to Philly before he returned to his seat, still shaking. He didn't speak to him for weeks after that.

"Where are we?" He asked, snuffing out his cigarette, idly running his hand over the bandaged crook of his arm. It burned, dully. A faded grey NEW peeked out from underneath the unrolled gauze.

Adam used his own cigarette to light a fresh one, stood up, and offered Charlie a hand. He took it, and only long enough to be helped up, but when it was back it his side it felt numb and tingly. They went to the doorway, and Adam stopped him, sliding the chain back.

"It's going to smell weird."

Charlie thought that was a strange thing to say, but the last few hours had been strange in themselves.

"Okay."

Adam nodded, pushed open the door, and gestured for him to go outside.

They were on the second story balcony of what looked like a beachfront condo. The salt air hit Charlie like a ton of bricks and took him immediately back to the Jersey Shore - the waitress, the ecstasy, the kiss, the gem he'd found to give her, the tearful goodbye he'd had in his head - a hundred tiny expressions he'd memorized and masturbated guiltily to later - the tears in his eyes, he'd blame on the rising sun and the warm wind.

"Oh man," he said, stepping outside, his bare feet pale and oddly delicate-looking as he walked past the threshold and into the comfortable patio area.

The condo was a loaner - he had a rich friend who'd gotten lucky dabbling in day trading and was never around anyway, and he was happy to let his friends use it as long as nothing got destroyed.

"What state is this?" Charlie asked, squinting a little. The sun was beginning to peek over the edge of the water. The sky was lightening to a dull pink, streaked gold and blue.

"Do you want to guess? I can show you a map and you can point," Adam offered, fishing his phone from the deep pockets of his Grover pajama pants. Charlie leaned rather heavily against the wooden railing leading to the beach, nodding, not really making eye contact.

He got it pretty close. Adam had to give him props for getting within 100 miles. His sense of direction was better than he gave himself credit for.

"Floir duh," Charlie said assertively, prodding the touch screen with one finger, expanding the window accidentally. He sheepishly handed the phone back.

"Close," Adam agreed, "Florida."

"Right, Florida. Florida," Charlie repeated, shaking his head like it was obvious. The fog, it seemed, was lifting. Maybe it was the fresh air.

Adam gestured to the shoreline.

"You should at least stick your feet in," he reasoned, sliding a pair of hot pink, oversized shades over his eyes, "before it gets too hot out here."

Charlie, however, wasn't ready. He shook his head, slowly, took one last look at the sea, and turned to duck back into he condo to get out of the sun.

Adam didn't follow him right away - he kept his peace, finished his smoke, and went for a long walk down the quiet beach. When he re-entered the house, Charlie was asleep again, or at least pretending to be


End file.
